


Azure

by Natsumiya_Teirin



Category: Alice Mare, LiEat (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Dream-eating dragon, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Semi-religious(?) Themes, Yaoi fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumiya_Teirin/pseuds/Natsumiya_Teirin
Summary: Will couldn't be there as much as he would've liked, and because of that, they kept coming back.Night after night, the cat and the rabbit tried to spirit him away.It was a miracle he was even able to wake up.Will only wanted to keep Allen safe- even if it meant getting rid of his dreams.He had no way of knowing the consequences of his actions.





	1. The Dream-Eating Dragon and the Bookworm Alice

**_Once upon a time, there was a sheep._ **

**_He could see dreams, so he ate the bad dreams of the humans who found him._ **

**_But one day..._ **

**_The sheep grew tired of the taste of nightmares._ **

**_Just then, he saw a boy having a wonderful dream. So he ate it._ **

**_And unwittingly created an inedible nightmare._ **

Allen had blue eyes. 

The sky was blue. The ocean was blue. Heaven was blue. 

Allen was Heaven personified.

Not at all like William. 

William had red eyes.

Red, like blood. Like  _murder._ Like  _hellfire._

If Allen was the embodiment of Heaven, then William was the incarnation of Hell. 

Even Efina wasn't as tainted as he was- she could eat lies, but she couldn't stand eating truths. 

William could eat dreams, good or bad. But the  _good dreams_ tasted the best- so sweet and fluffy, like cotton candy. 

And the people whose good dreams he'd eaten....were empty. Like the husks of corn he'd thrown away while helping Teacher prepare dinner the last time he'd spent the night at the orphanage. 

That was fun, though- being surrounded by so much love, and being able to spend time with Allen. 

But that was then. 

Now, today, he was staying with Ms. Sofia. 

"Will? Are you ready yet?" He straightened his tie and adjusted the pin on his jacket as he turned his head to answer.

"Yes Ms. Sofia, I'm ready!"

He winced as the pin pricked his finger, and quickly removed it. He supposed he didn't  _need_ it- none of the other kids would even notice, probably. But...

_Allen gave it to me. It's only right to wear it._

He grabbed it again from the counter and slipped it into his pocket, deciding he'd just fix it in the car. 

"Well, aren't you handsome?" Ms. Sofia teased, ruffling his hair, "I'm sure Stella will be happy to see that you've dressed up for her performance." 

She wouldn't care if he came in rags, but William didn't mention that. 

As Ms. Sofia led him to her car, William took the pin from his pocket and began to- carefully this time- attach it to the lapel of his suit jacket. 

He remembered the slight bit of pain as the pin pricked his finger. 

The people whose good dreams he'd eaten were like empty husks. But they didn't feel pain, or even sadness. 

Something about that nagged at the back of his head, and kept at it all through the ride to the orphanage. 

Mr. Leo and Teacher were conversing in the doorway, and William assumed Efina had already run inside to play with Joshua. 

Teacher had said over the phone yesterday that the performance was going to be a small, simple affair. Stella wrote her own song, and would play it in front of all of them at dinner, then they'd all be free to do whatever they wanted till Teacher called them back for dessert, and then it would be time for bed ("Of course, William and Efina are welcome to stay the night if they'd like"). 

Leo turned to leave, nodding towards Sofia.

"Goodbye, sir. Don't keep her up too late."

"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Leo," Teacher assured, then straightened up to greet Sofia. 

"Hello ma'am."

"Good evening." 

Teacher looked down at William with a smile. 

"And good evening to you, as well, William. You certainly dressed nicely- why don't you come inside? Allen's waiting for you in the library." 

He stepped back a bit, and William slipped past him with a nod of thanks, then made his way upstairs to the library. Allen spent so much time there, William probably had the the titles of all the books memorised almost as well as he did. 

He opened the door a crack and immediately saw Allen on the sofa, immersed in what looked to be a thick book of fairytales. Those kinds of stories were his favorites, and he liked reading them aloud as much as he liked reading them to himself. 

"Hello, Allen," William greeted happily. Allen sat the book open on his lap, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hello Will." 

And thus ended the evening greeting ritual. 

William took up a seat beside Allen as the blue-eyed blond picked the book up again. 

"What are you reading tonight?" William asked curiously. 

Allen hummed and turned a page. "Alice In Wonderland, by Carrol. Would you like me to read to you?"

William nodded his head before realizing that Allen wasn't looking at him. "Yes, please Allen." 

Allen hummed again and began reading from the beginning, his soft voice accentuating every syllable in such a way as to be almost like a lullaby. 

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do..."

 


	2. The Dream-Eating Dragon and the Slumbering Alice

"-she looked up eagerly, half hoping the Mouse had changed his mind, and was returning to finish his story." 

A knock sounded against the doorframe, and Allen stiffened. He grabbed a stray bookmark and marked his place before shutting the book, just in time to see Teacher calmly striding in, his aura cheerful as ever.

"Hello again, Allen."

"Hello Teacher," Allen and William chorused. 

The dark-eyed man smiled at them.

"Would either of you like to help me prepare dinner?" 

Allen nodded, and Teacher swept out of the room, leaving the blond to follow. William followed him, not feeling up to dealing with the ohers just yet. 

* * *

Allen was perched on a barstool in the kitchen, his small, slender hands peeling a potato with a small knife. 

Teacher filled the silence with idle chatter about the other kids ("I hope Stella likes the dress I bought her- she's so quiet it's hard to tell") while he himself was chopping carrots. William was occupying himself with washing the potatoes after Allen peeled them. 

A sharp intake of breath drew his attention to the other boy, and he opened his mouth to ask what happened when Teacher beat him to the punch. 

"Oh, Allen! You're hurt! Here, I'll grab a bandage." 

As he went to the medicine cabinet, Allen stood by the sink and rinsed the shallow cut under the faucet.

"It's okay Teacher- just a small cut..."

"Even so, we wouldn't want it to get infected- your parents- bless their souls- would be very upset if I let that happen." 

A heavy expression flickered across Allen's face and disappeared just as quickly. He silently let Teacher rub a bit of antiseptic on the cut and watched as he slowly began wrapping a small bit of bandage around his finger. He tied it off in a tight knot, and Allen wondered if this was what his mother was like before. 

The thought made him sad. No, not sad, but...longing, maybe? 

And William could smell it- the change in Allen's scent from a faint kind sweetness to a faint bitterness, which would've been stronger, maybe, if he had his memories. But this bitterness- this  _pain-_ made William unhappy, too. 

Idly, as Teacher took over peeling potatoes, William thought again of dreams, and what happened to people who'd lost their happiest ones. 

They weren't able to feel sadness or longing or anger. In that way, they were as safe as they could ever be. 

William hated it when Allen was hurt or unhappy. Perhaps if he ate his good dream- not all of it, but enough to keep him from feeling anything  _bad-_ then maybe he wouldn't have to worry about things like fear and sadness and pain and jealousy. 

Yes.

Yes, that's what he'd do. 


End file.
